A Night to Remember
by Ballettmaus
Summary: When Stella convinced Mac that making an appearance at Adam's birthday party wouldn't do any harm, neither of them were prepared for the consequences they would wake up to the following morning.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

As always, many thanks to Lily_Moonlight for reading through, correcting mistakes and giving reassurance.

I've actually had that idea for quite a while. Got it last year while we were on vacation in South Beach and I just wondered... how many ended up with what I made Mac and Stella end up and not remembered. I held on to it for a bit but eventually decided to write it out and not save it for whatever.

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Groaning, Mac opened his eyes, his head pounding and he felt strangely sore as he tried to push himself up, a wave of nausea hitting him. He slumped back down onto his stomach, swallowing hard before attempting again. With his body protesting, he managed to get himself into an upright position, his feet finally slipping over the edge of the bed. They touched the ground almost carefully but he remained seated; needing to remain seated so the constant throbbing of his temples had a chance to subdue.

It did, slowly and eventually enough for him to pull himself together. He struggled to his feet, controlling dizziness and another wave of nausea before becoming aware of being completely naked. Confused, he stared down at his exposed body as if it had the answer to the why spelled out somewhere. Only gradually did he seem to realize that it wasn't and with his mind fully back to reality, he turned. He began to search for his t-shirt and boxers which usually served as pajamas but halted when he noticed the ocean-turquoise bed sheets. His were white. All of them. Plain and simple and once again he stared in puzzlement. They _weren't_ his sheets; it wasn't his bed. Not his bed meant it wasn't his bedroom to begin with and even more perplexed, he stood back up.

He let his gaze wander around, not too fast, his look grazing several items that, contrary to the room, seemed familiar and he tried to place them until he located his underwear he had worn – yesterday?

Leaving the side and support of bed he strolled over to the door, picking his boxers off the floor and with his hand planted firmly on the dresser next to him, he slipped them on. The rest of his clothing was nowhere in sight yet there was a different sight which caught his attention as his gaze fell onto the mirror he stood in front of. He looked like he felt – like hell.

It didn't take long to locate the door he'd been searching for and an instant later he stepped into the bathroom. He halted behind the door, inspecting the clean space and this time it was the room which he thought he recognized; the tiles and wall color, the colorful shower curtain, the design of the room itself. The towels he was sure were the ones he had given her upon moving in and now certain who this bathroom and consequently the apartment belonged to, he let himself sink against the door, closing his eyes. To be here was and then wasn't a rather strange thought but he ignored the confusion which arose again and strode over to the sink he supported his weight on, staring into another mirror. The reflecting glass didn't show an image that differed from the one he had only recently gazed at and the cold water he splashed into his ragged face didn't change a lot. Yet at least he felt a little more awake and running a hand through his messy hair, he walked back into the bedroom. After another glance around, he continued into the hallway, a trail of clothing greeting him as soon as he did. A very distinguishable trail of clothing, leading through the entire length of the corridor, and all at once he grasped that the image of him stumbling through that door with her in his arms, pressing her up against the wall as his lips slid eagerly down her neck, hearing soft moans escaping the lips he had then devoured hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real, it had happened, here, the garments were indisputable proof.

Muffled noises brought his senses back to the present and he started towards them about to grab his undershirt off the floor when something else caught his attention. He picked it up, staring for what appeared to be an eternity before placing it back on the small sideboard he had taken it from and slowly closed the distance between him and the nearest doorway. Entering the kitchen, he found her standing sideways to him, rummaging through a cupboard. Her curls were pulled into a rather chaotic bun and a knee-length satin robe enveloped her body, the knot either having come lose or not having been tied in the first place. One way or the other, the delicate fabric had slipped off one of her shoulders, giving him a generous view of her cleavage as she continued to busy herself with what he knew were the preparations of tea. Her panties were the only other item of clothing covering her and he let his eyes feast on her delightful body, the exploration coming to an abrupt halt at her hip. He stared then blinked and stared again but it hadn't been his imagination; it was still there.

"You have a tattoo?"

His voice seemed to echo in the room, at least it did in his head and he felt she was spinning as she shifted, the bouncing of her curls making him lightheaded.

"So do you." Her words were factual and she turned fully around, her eyes locking with his. They were bloodshot as well and she, too, looked worn, however, not nearly as bad as him.

"Excuse me?" He lifted his brows or attempted to in any case, not entirely sure if he was successful.

Holding on to his eyes, she indicated to his left shoulder yet it took him a moment to understand. Slowly, with her gaze continuing to focus on him, he lifted his arm, his eyes shifting towards it with a slight delay and once again he discovered something to stare at in puzzlement. The skin was still red around the small depiction on his upper arm, the tiny remains of some sort of a band-aid that had obviously been torn off in haste visible. It was what his gaze was fixed at as he tried to remember how he had come in the possession of what it had covered up but he quickly acknowledged that he was unable to do so.

"God," he groaned, lowering his arm and closing his eyes. He let his body sink against the refrigerator, his shoulder and upper arm supporting the weight and she granted him the time he needed, waiting in silence until his eyes fluttered open again. Wordlessly, she reached behind her, producing a glass filled with what looked like water.

"Aspirin?"

His question was answered with a nod and he managed a thanks before downing the liquid almost eagerly.

"The last time I felt this… bad was…" He stopped, looking up at her, causing her to lower her mug of tea. "I can't even remember."

With a small moan, he glared into the glass then walked the couple of steps to the sink, placing it inside.

"I was still in the marines." He turned back around, his eyes meeting hers but soon were drawn to where the soft color decorated her skin. Most of it was hidden in the shadows of the robe yet there was enough for him to stare at.

"I'm sure Claire was amused," she remarked, obviously not the least bothered by his intense look. He lifted his gaze back up and for a moment simply held on to it.

"That was before Claire," he disclosed, not sure if he had really needed that instant to determine that.

"Figures." She smirked at him as he leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"How should I understand that?" he inquired, glad to find his headache starting to ease.

"The way you want it to." It was nothing short of a grin that she offered him now and he felt his lips curl into a smile, watching as she took a long sip from her tea. Her fingers were slung elegantly around the mug, her lips testing the liquid, tempting him and he forced his eyes a little higher, studying her tangled curls. She looked undeniably cute and his body had filled with a sensation of floating bubbles when her eyes finally met his again. There was no question in them but he knew there was in his. The strewn clothes in the hallway didn't leave much doubt as to what had happened, however, there was the possibility that he had crashed before anything could have come to a conclusion.

Either way, he would have loved to remember; would have loved to remember holding her, tasting her skin, touching her body that he now let his eyes wander over again. They came to a stop at the same spot at her hip and staring at it, he gave in to the nagging urge, taking a hesitant step towards her. His gaze flickered briefly back up to hers then dropped as he reached for the robe and slowly, with his fingers grazing her skin, he brushed it aside like an expensive curtain. She turned to give him a better view, the delicate and elegant antique ornament winding around her left hip to the lower back of the same side, fading into a small image.

"That's…" He quickly glanced at his arm in confirmation. "The same…" Lifting his eyes he met hers and she shifted back around. "We got the same… tattoo?" He couldn't exactly tell why but he had to swallow at the word, stating it seeming to make it more existent than he wanted it to be.

"Obviously," she replied, her own eyes moving over her hip. "Only I got mine with a little more decoration. So we know whose is whose." He let go of the robe again and her gaze met his as he ran a hand over his face, not really picking up on her joke.

"Why?" He wasn't bothered that they were identical, his analytical mind just needed to know the reason.

"Maybe we thought it was cute." There was a trace of a smile on her lips and she had clearly understood the question the way it had been meant.

"Maybe?" he repeated, frustration arising inside of him.

"You're not the only one who woke up with a hangover," she remarked, finishing her tea. "Do you think I would have ended up with – that," she gestured to her hip, "otherwise?" Her look was that of challenging skepticism and several thoughts jumped through his mind yet he wasn't entirely sure which of those was accurate.

"Right now, I don't really know what I would be thinking." His voice was apologetic. "Generally."

She offered him a sympathetic smile and silence settled between them but only for a short moment.

"I'm sorry, do you want some coffee?" She had set her own mug back down, apparently having realized that she hadn't offered him anything other than the aspirin.

"If you suggest tea, I'll take it."

The surprise showing on her features was that of sheer stun and had his mind been able to function normally he would have shot the proper response at her. Now though the astonishment was replaced by comprehension too quickly for him to react and he had to be satisfied with the understanding that the thought of the bitter taste of coffee seemed to have made her stomach as wobbly as it made his.

She turned and he leaned against the counter next to her, studying her bare legs while she grabbed a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with water before placing it in the microwave. Something about those numbers counting steadily backwards was oddly soothing and he stared at them, all of a sudden standing up straight.

"What time is it?" he wanted to know, searching for a clock.

"You're covered." She had retrieved the mug and turned around. "I'm on call. We're fine."

With the tea bag now dropped into the water, she handed him the mug.

"Who's covering me?" It didn't matter and it had been a simple statement but then, at the same time, it hadn't.

"Danny." The response caused his doubts to increase and testing the hot brew he studied her.

"Why do I get the feeling that he had something to do with – the state we're in?" He had asked the question before he was sure he even wanted to know.

"Because you're a smart detective?" A spark of mischief lit up her tired eyes as she glanced up from filling her own mug with water.

"Try again." At that, she flashed him an almost seductive grin and disposing of his tea bag, he took a long sip. "Do I want to know?"

She set the microwave prior to throwing him a look over her shoulder, her eyes lingering.

"No." There was no amusement, no teasing in her voice and leaving it at that she returned her attention to the microwave.

Drinking his tea he observed her repeating the same process of taking out the mug and placing a tea bag into the hot water, each of her movements emphasized by the soft fabric of the robe. It was still untied, flowing smoothly around her and as she once more turned face him, it dawned on him how comfortable they both were.

"Adam's birthday!" The thought shot forward and she met his eyes, asking wordlessly. "We went." It was a statement even though he wasn't entirely sure.

"We were invited," she reminded him.

"Which I thought was inappropriate," he recalled, looking at her intensely. "You talked me into it."

A quick grin spread across her face.

"That was the day before yesterday," she pointed out, blowing at her tea. "And it meant a lot to him."

"So you said," he nodded and she leaned around him to discard of her tea bag, her arm casually brushing his stomach. "When you tricked me into going."

Her eyes shot up.

"I didn't trick you," she defended herself, a sly smile crossing her features. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "Though, I would think, I simply convinced you that there was no harm in showing up."

"Because it meant a lot to him," he repeated.

"Exactly." She beamed like a child in a candy store and he felt the urge to laugh but didn't, a simple smile appearing on his face while they each took a sip from their tea.

"I still ended up going alone." The words were dragged out as he vaguely remembered entering Adam's apartment by himself.

"I had a meeting with the DA." She was unimpressed by the accusatory look he offered. "I told you I'd be late."

"Apparently though not before I got there or I would have waited for you," he stated. It was one thing he would always be sure of, no matter how many blackouts he had.

"You didn't mind when I got there." Her comment was accompanied by another sly smile.

"Those people were half my age." His voice was full of disbelief. "And friends of Adam." That alone probably qualified as a guarantee for discomfort.

"You were engaged in a lively conversation with a very attractive brunette," Stella revealed, his incredulity increasing before he felt the heat of embarrassment crawling through his body.

"I was drunk," he remembered, almost relieved.

"Obviously," she blurted out and he threw her a mocking glare. He wasn't sure if she was referring to the flirting or the state he was in now, figuring that she probably meant both.

Finishing his tea, he stared into the empty mug, declining Stella's inquiry of a refill but putting it on the counter behind him just in case.

"How does Danny tie into this?" he recalled.

"I thought you didn't want to know." Her eyes twinkled and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"If you want to be that smart, Stella Bonasera, you were the one saying I didn't want to know." His words were full of challenge and setting her mug down next to his, she shot him a reproachful glance.

"I was acting in your best interest," she countered, throwing the challenge right back at him.

"I'd like to verify that."

"You're doubting me?" Her brows rose and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fabric floating around her before enveloping her body gracefully again.

"Would I ever?" His flirtatious yet serious response made her smile.

"You'd better not." Her arms relaxed and for an instant they both were silent.

"So," he cut through the stillness, "Danny…"

"… called me and apologized."

"Apologized for what?" he urged her to go on, certainly not surprised that he had called Stella instead of him.

"Take an educated guess," she shrugged, "I'm sure – with the state we both woke up in – you'll come to the same conclusion as me."

Yes, they had been drunk far beyond the legal – and surely healthy – limit, he had recognized that and since neither he nor Stella could have been forced to drink there weren't a lot of possibilities. They could have mixed their drinks or added to them…

"He apologized but didn't say for what?" It all seemed to confusing to further think about by himself. "And you didn't ask?"

"He spoke to my voicemail," she explained. "It's amazing enough that I even understood the message."

Her statement prompted a smile to cross his features yet at her warning glare he opted not to ask whether that was because of her or Danny.

"What did he say?" he therefore only inquired.

"That he and Flack already had "a few" and didn't mean any harm. They thought it would be fun but they didn't – and I quote – expect you to go "overboard" so quickly."

He couldn't tell whether she was amused or not; he didn't exactly know what he was either, but he was definite that it wasn't pleased.

"And they'd thought I would last longer, too," she grumbled and despite the new threat her eyes shot into his direction, he smirked. A second later a crumbled ball of the paper the tea bag had been wrapped in hit his chest.

"I'm sure it was meant as a compliment," he quickly assured, withstanding her thorough gaze with ease.

"I'm not," she stated matter-of-factly. "But either way, Danny's covering your double shift, as hung-over as he is – voluntarily."

"I'm sure he'll also gladly take over all the unpopular tasks for the next months," Mac determined, his voice as factual as hers. "Voluntarily, of course."

She grinned and reached for another tea bag paper, forming it into a little ball.

"At least he had the decency to call and apologize." The paper ball flew into his direction, bouncing off his hand that had shot up and hitting her cheek. "Hey!" she complained. As indifferent as he was able to pretend he was, he watched her pick it up, throwing the paper ball again before she fully stood, missing him by huge distance.

He didn't comment though and let the mood settle, his mind going over their conversation.

"Unfortunately, his apology isn't helping with the consequences," he frowned. "Or making this go away," he added, raising his arm to indicate the tattoo.

Her eyes dropped and after a moment, so did his, inspecting the ancient looking image. It was Greek, there was no doubt about it; he would have known even if Stella hadn't had the very characteristic decoration. However, he had no idea what the lettering meant and right now, he was too afraid to ask.

"You could always have it removed," her gentle voice suggested and he lifted his eyes, locking them with hers.

"I could…" he mumbled, lowering his gaze again. Sure, he could but it felt odd, wrong to simply consider it. "I suppose I can live with it though." He brought his back up, a flicker of surprise visible in hers. "It's small and easy to hide."

"Quite the contrary to mine," she murmured, rather to herself than to him yet his eyes were instantly drawn to her hip. It was elaborate, there was no doubt about it; expressive, all the while being subtle and so much like her. The desire to touch those delicate lines surged through him; to trace them with his fingertips, caress the irritated skin and for a moment he contemplated giving in but instead he let his eyes meet hers once more.

"It's still hidden from view," he pointed out.

"But it's not small," she countered, studying it herself now. "It might show if a shirt rides up." Her gaze went back to his, almost helpless. "You should have stopped me, you know." Her voice was reproachful, however, the spark in her eyes revealed that she wasn't serious.

"Would I have done that before or after I wasn't alert enough to stop myself?" he inquired amused.

"Depends on whoever got it first," she smirked and he found that to be infectious.

"Maybe we got it together," he suggested meaningfully, a strange but pleasant sensation spreading through him at the idea.

"Maybe," she repeated. The grin had faded from her face and her voice was rather pensive, silence falling between them while they both pursued their own thoughts.

"How come you didn't have one before?" her soft question cut through the stillness, their looks reconnecting. "Having been in the marines…" Sheer curiosity shone through the words that were as warm as the faint smile which was settled on her face.

"I didn't see the point," he shrugged, glancing at his arm. "I still don't," he added, looking back up, sure that a shadow of disappointment rushed through her eyes. "I always thought and think that it doesn't make me any tougher or braver…" He paused, studying her attentive gaze. "I considered being a marine an honor. A tattoo didn't quite fit with my beliefs – and it doesn't fit with me either."

"Apparently you were of a different opinion last night." A sheepish grin spread across her face but soon vanished as her eyes dropped to his arm.

She reached out, her fingertip gliding over the inked skin leaving a trail of warmth.

"It's not so bad," she assured him, withdrawing her hand then her eyes flickered coquettishly. "It adds to your mystery."

The expression he rewarded her with was full of doubt.

"Do you know something I don't?" he asked, causing a load of mischief to return to her gaze.

"I know what it means." She flashed him another grin, the teasing, however, had disappeared from her eyes. Instead they shimmered with affection, wrapping him in a tender embrace and the question he had been about to voice melted on his lips. He would inquire about the exact meaning later, maybe tonight or tomorrow when he felt more capable of actually absorbing anything of a deeper significance. For now, her eyes had told him everything of importance; everything he needed and wanted to know.

"What about you?" The focus returned to his eyes, lingering on her and despite his efforts, his heart began to beat faster as he waited for her to respond. While she had disclosed – mutely – that it was about them; their extraordinary relationship only seconds ago, she still could and had the right to be bothered by it. As much as something inside of him hoped she would keep it, he would understand if she didn't want to, yet she only offered him a look of puzzlement.

"Are you going to have it removed?" His voice was calm but his heart was hammering in his chest.

"I didn't go through all that trouble just to have it removed." Her response was determined and as if it should have been obvious in the first place.

"You don't remember going through any of the trouble," he reminded her, his body filling with a strange relief.

"That's just semantics," she grinned. "I still went through it and it still hurts," she added, drawing for sympathy and causing him to frown.

"Then that's part of the trouble you went through," he echoed her words, showing none of the compassion she had aimed for. Instead the teasing was already overshadowed by the thoughts his mind was drifting to and he barely noticed the third and last paper ball flying at him.

"The question is what other trouble you – we – went through last night." His heart remained oddly calm as he held her eyes, anxious for her to reply to something he was bizarrely sure of the answer.

"You woke up naked, right?" All amusement had faded from her face, her features though were still soft and he nodded. "So did I," she informed him, her gaze remaining on his. There was no sarcasm in her voice, no anger, just a slight hint of teasing. "There's a trail of clothing in the hallway – so… what does your brilliant mind tell you we went through?"

"The hallway," he blurted out, prompting her to stare at him completely bewildered and at an actual loss for words. "Sorry," he mumbled as her lips started to curl into a smile. "So, we… did sleep with each other?" he made sure before she had a chance to say something.

"Yes." It was a simple answer, the one he had expected yet that nevertheless now left him without a proper response. Apologizing seemed inappropriate and in those green eyes which were locked with his was no trace of regret. Just openness, trust and love.

"Do you… know or assume?" His question was almost careful.

"I know some of it and assume the rest." There was a hint of mystery glowing in her gaze and for a second he felt drawn to it like a moth to light before he nodded.

He still wasn't sure of what to say or do next though, so he simply kept his eyes connected with hers. An encouraging and easy smile formed on her lips and slowly he returned it.

"At least we remembered to buy condoms," he attempted to joke and she had the graciousness to be amused.

"I don't think we chose those for protection." Her words seemed meaningful and he wondered if his remark had indeed delighted her but for a motive he was about to learn. "You saw them, didn't you?" Her gaze was almost scrutinizing and he nodded, recalling the black package he had discovered on the sideboard with those letters which so colorfully promised a different taste each time…

"God, Stella," he groaned, an unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment rushing through his body. "We really must have been drunk."

"I thought we'd agreed on that," she commented, her brows raised and he grinned when something else crossed his mind.

"If we didn't _use_ those condoms…" This time his heartbeat climbed again and even though she was quick to shake her head, it still took too long.

"I'm on birth control," she reassured him and he felt himself exhale in relief. "Otherwise someone would have been in more than just trouble," she growled.

"They could argue that it was due to our own actions," he mused and once more her arms were crossed in front of her.

"Actions we would have been a lot more considerate with without their help," she shot back.

"That we certainly proved over the last few years," he retorted and a quick grin appeared on her face but just as quickly forced it away.

"Whose side are you on?" she challenged and now it was him who offered her a grin.

"I don't remember," he replied playfully, his voice full of innocence. "But I would assume I wasn't on either but on top." He caught her off guard for the second time, however, she recovered a lot faster.

"What makes you think that?" She smirked and so did he, their eyes silently continuing their lighthearted banter.

"Did we at least make it to the bedroom?" The words were out of his mouth faster than he had intended and he had to fight a twinge of insecurity which threatened to overcome him. "The first time, I mean," he added with a hint of nervousness. "If you know…" He held her eyes, the uneasiness slowly being replaced by the hilarity of that absurd conversation they were having.

"The bedroom, yes," she nodded. "The bed, no."

The surprise her answer caused, he was unable to hide, the idea that he had had sex with her outside the bed somehow peculiarly yet intriguing. After all, he couldn't remember the last time he had had intercourse elsewhere than a bed – or the sofa on a rare occasion – and it was likely that that went even further back than the last time he had been as drunk.

"Not that I spent much thought on it – but I hadn't expected that either," she admitted, a spark of lust twinkling in her eyes. "Honestly, I hadn't expected a lot of what… happened." She smiled slyly.

"So, I assume, I… performed?"

"I'm not complaining." Her smile widened into a smirk and a sensation of boyish pride filled his body, her facial expression soon mirrored by him. They spent another moment grinning at each other, meaningfully, comfortably, a few random images flashing up in front of his eyes; sensations, smells, sounds. Of her hot skin pressed against his, of her excited body, of her erotic voice in his ear.

Halting his thoughts in realization, he looked at her.

"Why did you want to have memories?" he inquired softly and this time it was her whose gaze swam with confusion. "That's what you… purred… slurred… into my ear. That you wanted memories. Memories for what?" He searched her eyes almost piercingly, suddenly afraid of what could be her answer yet all it consisted of was a shrug.

"I don't remember that," she offered apologetically, letting his eyes search the depth of hers.

"I'm sure you have a pretty good idea though," he stated quietly, lifting his hand and brushing one of the many curls that had come lose, out of her face before resting his palm on her cheek.  
She shrugged again, lighter this time, as she studied him in consideration, obviously looking for the words which would best describe what was on her mind.

"Just… memories, Mac," she finally confessed slowly. "Of you and me. Here. In case…" She paused, her hand finding his and covering it. "In case it doesn't happen again." Her words were spoken with a rare vulnerability but they were exactly what he had hoped to hear. At least the sense was exactly what he had hoped for; the verbal confirmation he had needed to erase any concerns that something between them could have – despite the impression – changed for the worse.

"So you want it to happen again?" His voice was caring and affectionate, his other arm slipping around her waist, pulling her in front of his body. Her warm skin on his sent a pleasant tingle through him and he let his hand slide from her cheek so he could wrap her in a firm embrace.

"Yes," she stated positively, both her hands settling on his chest.

"All of it?"

The ghost of a smile crept over her face as her hands snaked up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"Yes," she replied as confidently, trailing her fingernails over his back and leaving him with an anticipating shiver.

"Good," he smiled, his lips grazing hers. "Because I have an entire night to catch up on."

Her grin lasted only for an instant before his mouth devoured hers and she willingly returned his eager exploration, emotions of familiarity, exhilaration, desire, love, all surging through him. A sense of déjà-vu captured him as he felt her body press against his, her tender breasts a contrast to her toned muscles and he pulled her even closer. Just as last night, a soft moan escaped her lips at the fierce contact and she left him in control, melting into his arms like her mouth melted into his. He took advantage of that, of her, her lips, greedily, wanting everything, wanting her and determined he pulled away. Her breathing was as labored as his, thick with anticipation and in a swift motion he clasped her hand, sweeping her out of the kitchen. She followed willingly, her arms snaking around his waist as they reached the hallway, her lips leaving a trail of moist kisses on his back until he turned. His mouth was back on hers in an instant and with his arms securely wrapped around her, she pushed him backwards when something caught his eye. He reached out, snatching the black package from the sideboard and it took only a second for the surprise in her gaze to be replaced with pure pleasure and lust. Her robe was soon added to the existing trail of clothing and a moment later they pushed into the bedroom, the door swinging open as they tumbled onto the bed, sinking into an ocean of desire.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Thank you Lily_Moonlight for reading and correcting and for encouraging me to post the two additional chapters as well because I wasn't entirely sure of the concept anymore. However, I hope they do answer some questions the first one didn't.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first and thanks also for all the alerts!!

Just to prevent any confusion: I'm going backwards in time.

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Not sure what had woken her, Stella opened her eyes, the light painfully bright and she quickly squeezed her eyelids shut again. The second attempt was successful, the ache of her head still present but at least she was able to keep her eyes open, blinking a few times. The sun was already shining into the window and normally it made getting up easier, today, however, the cheerful warmth it cast was almost annoying.

Using her flat palm, she brushed her curls out of her face, taking another moment before she began to push herself up and only then became aware of something heavy weighing down on her. Frowning, she turned herself onto her back, her head dropping to its side and her gaze falling onto Mac. The sight of him lying next to her, fast asleep, didn't stir any more panic than the realization that she was devoid of any clothing. Somehow she had expected one as the consequence of the other and she simply regarded him with warm eyes.

His breath was calm and even, his mouth ever so slightly open and his arm was what was providing the weight on her waist, spread out and heavy with slumber. He was completely relaxed and she felt herself smile at his state, carefully, as to not to disturb him, propping herself up onto her elbows. Her stomach and head instantly protested at the much too energetic change of position and she groaned quietly in regret, closing her eyes until her body had adjusted then offered the man next to her another glance. His left arm was sprawled out as well, hanging over the side of the bed and adding to the cute picture he presented but it was also that arm which stopped her intention of slipping out of bed. Or rather, it was the antique looking image gracing his upper arm that she now caught a glimpse of.

She hadn't known he had a tattoo and if she was honest, she would have never expected to discover one anywhere on his body. Despite him being an ex-marine, he had never occurred to her as someone who would sport any form of body art. Yet she had obviously been wrong like so many of her assumptions had been proven wrong last night. There weren't a lot of details she remembered; what she did remember though first and foremost was that sleeping with him had triggered the most incredible sensations inside of her. A perfect balance between desire, passion, lust, affection, love, that had made her crave his touch, his kiss, his all and which now filled her out with completion and comfort.

With her lips curled into a wistful smile, she slid cautiously from underneath his arm and out of bed, the smile though vanishing quickly as her body objected to the standing. Swallowing the uprising nausea, she took a deep breath to steady herself, slowly leaving the bedside. Her gaze fell onto her panties and his boxers lying on the floor close to the door and she glanced around, the rest of their clothes though were nowhere to be seen. While a part of her found it odd, the other didn't and sure that they would be _somewhere_, she rounded the bed. Now that she was moving around, she gradually became aware of the burning pain of her hip and rubbing her hand absent-mindedly over it, she fished some fresh panties out of a drawer. Slipping them on, she tried to dig up memories that could explain a bruise as sore and intent on checking it out, she lowered her eyes, gasping in shock then confusion.

She wasn't bruised; the color which decorated her skin was of a non-natural cause, applied deliberately and with precision and just as antique looking as the one on Mac's arm.

Staring, she let her back sink against the wall, desperate to make sense of it; to figure out when and especially why she had decided she needed – that. There had been occasions when she had toyed with the idea of something small and discreet yet she had only wondered about it, never actually considered it and had always dismissed it as unnecessary and too permanent. So, that a tattoo and particularly one as elaborate as this was currently adorning her hip could only have come about because she had been in a state that had left her now unable to recall it happening in the first place.

Twisting her head to determine how adventurous the probably drunken condition she had been in last night had made her feel, she discovered the ornament to wind around her entire left hip to her lower back. It was at second glance that she realized the small image the detailed decoration faded into resembled the one on Mac's arm and reaching for a satin robe hanging on its hook, she muttered under her breath. Cursed really – in Greek, just because she could. Sometimes she definitely needed a baby-sitter.

But then, she reminded herself with a faint smile, her "baby-sitter on duty" was collapsed on her bed, completely oblivious to that or any other fact of the world and in no different circumstances than she was in.

Wrapping the robe casually around her exposed body, she left the support of the wall and took a few steps towards the bathroom, her eyes skimming over Mac as she did so. Just like hers, she noticed, the skin around the tattoo was still red and she felt an almost guilty satisfaction at the thought that upon waking up he would be just as confused as she had been. However, that sensation of pleasure vanished when she became aware of the words she was gazing at; the ones they had chosen and she was for the first time really reading. It was a simple sentence; one of her favorites, from an old novel, a Greek legend, combining the indestructible bond of friendship and love in that single line. She hadn't expected some random drabble, yet it was amazing that – as intoxicated as she had been – she had been capable of thinking of something so deep and meaningful. Perfectly representing them; what they had.

Tearing her eyes slowly away from him, she continued to the bathroom and a moment later her face tingled with the sensation of a splash of cold water. Instantly, she felt more awake, ready to tackle the mess of her curls and with those tamed she tied them into a loose bun. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she was presentable enough and she slipped out of the narrow door, into the hallway. Clothes covered the floor and noting amused that she had found them, she shut the door quietly behind her.

After she had done the same with the bedroom door, she walked to the kitchen, decisively seeking out the cabinet holding her aspirin. At least, she hoped it held some since she hadn't needed it in quite a while. She had to remove several items until she finally discovered what she had been looking for and verifying with a short look that it was still good to use, she retrieved two glasses from a different cabinet. Once both were filled with water and the aspirin was resolving with a slight sizzle, she set one aside, waiting impatiently until the other one was drinkable. As soon as it was, she downed it greedily but almost choked on the last sip when she caught the time the clock on the microwave all too brightly announced.

Rattling down the days of the week to figure out the day and her schedule, she hurried – to the extent that her hangover allowed – back into the hallway but halted upon stepping inside. With the clothes strewn all over the floor, she doubted her phone was anywhere where it normally would be and she glanced along the trail of fabric in consideration. Locating her pants, she strode over and determined quickly that the pockets were empty, her jacket, which was lying a little closer to the door, didn't hold a phone either. She let it drop back onto the floor, scanning the remaining items of clothing until her gaze fell onto her purse that dangled from one of the drawer knobs. Briefly, she wondered how it had gotten there but dismissed the thought as irrelevant, sweeping up the purse and setting it on top of the sideboard. She rummaged through its content, however, instead of her phone she pulled out one of the first items she came across, staring at the black package with raised brows.

Where or when they had bought condoms was beyond her. Yet holding them, gazing at the neon letters, she remembered faintly that he had breached the issue; that he had been positive of being completely healthy but had not wanted her to take any risks. She had found his concern adorably cute and apparently had agreed to his request of buying them. Though using them had obviously been an entirely different matter…

Reminding herself that she was looking for something else, she dropped the condoms onto the sideboard and eventually produced the object of desire. She scowled at the missed call; going into work wasn't appealing but duty was duty and already on her way to the bathroom, she listened to the message. Surprised, she stopped in the doorway, Danny's rambling somewhat difficult to understand since he clearly wasn't feeling any better than she or Mac. She did understand, though, that she wouldn't have to worry about being called out, that he promised, just like he assured her twice that he had Mac's shift covered. What exactly he was apologizing for in between, she had no idea of, however, they would find out soon enough and for the moment she was certain that it was all the better for him she didn't know.

Slightly confused, she let go of the door she realized she still held on to and with the phone in her hand, she turned, trying to make sense of Danny's words. Flack and he had thought it would be fun; sure they had, those boys in disguise of adults always thought playing pranks on others was fun. In a way it surely was – especially when she wasn't subject of their jokes – and they were good at heart, no one ever really being able to blame them. This time it was no different and that it had ended with Mac and her here, in her apartment, her bed, hadn't hurt in any way. Quite the contrary; it had been exactly the push they had needed to finally stop that dancing around each other and while she would certainly appreciate to have actual memories of the first night they spent together, they had the rest of their lives to make everlasting ones of those.

However, she would find something to pay them back for the hangover. And the pain on her hip. The whole tattoo. Though a part of her had already started to like the body art she now gazed at again.

The color that had been used made it look antique, like a drawing that had survived hundreds of years; like it was directly taken out of the book the quote was from. It fit entirely with the Greek theme and it was placed low enough so it wouldn't show if she was wearing a lot cut evening gown. In fact, it would probably stay hidden from view unless she wore a bikini; it would be waiting to be revealed by those hands that had touched her last night. Reserved for the eyes of the man those hands belonged to.

Still, it was there and hurt and wouldn't have done either without Danny's – and Flack's – aide and the thought of making them suffer a little was just too tempting. They could, she mused literally pay her and Mac back for it, or just Mac in that case, and it took her only seconds to grow fond of the idea. It was a start at least, the rest she and Mac could plot later and with a satisfied smile on her face, she placed her phone next to her purse on the sideboard. Returning to the kitchen, her gaze only so much as grazed the coffee maker, the thought of the smell alone flipping her stomach upside down and she opted for tea instead. Herbal tea, preferably chamomile, and once more she had to probe through a cabinet and its several boxes to reveal what she wanted. She took out the tea, instantly aware of his presence even before he had fully stepped into the kitchen; of his eyes on her that she would always perceive from a mile away and drunk or not, she knew then that every decision they had made last night, had been the right one.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Thank you to Lily_moonlight for reading through and correcting mistakes.

Thanks also to all the encouraging reviews and alerts.

Accuracy as far as the alcohol is concerned might be off a little. I'm not expert in the field which is also why the amount not overly specific. It's another "backwards" chapter, thus is happening before the other two.

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Holding the beer Danny had just thrust into his hand, Mac surveyed the room, frowning at all the strange faces before him. He shouldn't have let Stella talk him into this; Adam was one of his lab techs, a good one but nothing more and it wasn't his place to be here, at his birthday. No matter how much it meant to him as Stella had more than once pointed out during the dinner she had treated him to last evening. All part of her plan, he had concluded, just like the heart-melting smiles and pleading looks she had sent his way until he had agreed – and now he was stuck alone as she had informed him only minutes ago that she was tied up in a meeting with the DA…

Frustrated, he slipped onto one of the empty stools standing in front of the breakfast bar, taking a half-hearted sip from his beer. He could be at home or even better he could be busying himself with some of the paperwork that sat waiting on his desk and in which company he felt a lot more comfortable.

"Mac, hey." Beaming, Adam approached and Mac offered his employee a smile. "Glad you came." The statement was genuine, confirming Stella's words but possible conversation was limited between the two of them and a moment later the lab tech had already disappeared again, leaving his boss to himself.

"You looking for company?" Flack leaned over the counter, a bottle of beer – evidently not his first – in his hand and a smirk spread over his face. "I can get you some," he offered, letting his eyes roam around the living-area and the many young single ladies who mingled in the crowd.

"I'm sure," Mac muttered. He, too, scanned the room, his look a lot more critical than Flack's had been, while his beer was treated to an unasked for refill. Just the amount of a sip or two, barely noticeable and even less so after the double shift Mac had worked.

"You're waiting for Stella, right?" Another smirk was flashed into his face.

"Yes, I'm waiting for Stella," Mac confirmed with a grunt. "To wring her neck."

"That's not gonna be pretty." Flack winced, his lips curled into a smile though. "Hey Messer!" he then called out, prompting Mac to turn and as he watched Danny offer a redhead a heart-melting smile, the drink he had just taken from his pitcher was instantly topped up again. "You got a wife at work and a kid at home with a baby-sitter."

Grinning devilishly, Danny strolled over and settled next to his friend.

"Just made sure she was good enough for you." Like Flack's the beer he was nursing clearly wasn't his first and he wasn't even aware of the doubtful look his boss was throwing him. "Stella coming late?"

"She'd better not," Flack shrugged, taking a long drink from his beer and frowning at the empty bottle. "Mac plans to kill her." His attention had returned to his friends and a third smirk appeared on his face, followed by another snort.

"Oh, investigating the boss." Danny was delighted. "That's gonna be fun, I want the case." He glanced at Flack who studied him contemplatively.

"What do you wanna investigate?" he then asked. "You got the perp, you just need a confession and that's gonna be me who's getting that." His chest almost swelled with pride as he seemed to grow a few inches, not entirely clear whether it was because had nailed Danny or because he would be the one with the responsibility.

"You still need evidence in case he lawyers up," Danny pointed out smartly.

"You wouldn't lawyer up, would you?" Flack shifted his focus on to Mac as did Danny, both of them bestowed with a more than skeptical glare.

"Come on, Mac," Danny tried to lighten his boss's mood. "We're just having some fun. You know that thing where you, well, joke. You wouldn't actually murder her anyway, right?" He took a swig of his beer. "I mean, let's be honest, between us guys," he leaned a little closer, "who would you pretend to be just friends with while you're dying to lure her into bed?" His voice was challenging and his impish smirk didn't leave his face despite the potentially lethal stare Mac kept gazing at him with.

"Man, you talked yourself into some trouble," Flack remarked after he had recovered from choking on the sip of beer he had taken from Danny's bottle. "Might as well jump out the window before Mac commits his second murder." The idea had him grin but Danny shook his head quite determinedly.  
"Naw, the boss loves me." Sure of himself he ignored the grunt. "Besides, I got a wife and a kid." Satisfied, Danny grabbed Mac's pitcher, downing a large sip then stared in fake shock. "That yours, right?" He finished what was left of it. "I'll get you a new one."

With that, Danny vanished, not giving Mac a chance to respond and when he returned a few instants later, juggling beers for all three of them, Don had successfully engaged him in a sports conversation. Danny joined in and over the next hour they discussed various aspects of different sports as beer was sipped and – at least where Mac's was concerned – refilled. Small amounts at first but after Danny and Flack had finally decided to let him finish that pitcher and organized him another one the two became more generous. They were amazed how quickly the alcohol seemed to take effect and by the time a young brunette slipped onto the stool next to Mac, he was already drunk enough to flash her an inviting smile. The easy chatter that subsequently erupted was filled with flirtation, each of the three men being bestowed with the same attention and a conspiratorial grin was her only response when she caught on to Danny and Flack's doings.

"I see you found some company."

Mac turned at the voice and beaming – for his standards – at Stella he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close, her body almost stumbling into his.

"I had to," he replied, disregarding her look of skepticism. "You deserted me."

With her brows raised, she watched him take a sip from his beer, wondering if she should evade the arm that was still around her. Not because she was bothered by it yet it was a gesture that went far beyond the friendly touches and embraces they had shared over the years. However, his hold was firm and with no seat available, she opted to remain where she was.

"How many beers have you had?" She studied him, hoping she would get an honest response.

"That's my second – and a half," he answered true to his beliefs but was rewarded with another skeptical look.

"Right," she muttered, glancing at Flack who simply offered her a broad grin and with an internal sigh she dismissed the idea of getting any other information out of him.

"Here ya go." Danny shoved a pitcher of beer into her direction that she was hesitant to take, her eyes going back to Mac. He was finishing his drink and setting the glass down, he returned her gaze quizzically.

"You don't want it?" he inquired, his eyes already lusting over it.

"Sure she does," Danny decided, pushing the beer further towards her. "I'll get you a new one boss." With an impish smirk he disappeared once more into the crowd.

"One," Stella conceded. "Then I'll get you home – and to bed," she told Mac who threw her an approving smile. "Definitely," she added as Danny returned with the promised beer.

The group then resumed the conversation that Stella preferred not to get too involved in. Her attentiveness gave Danny and Flack little opportunity, yet once Adam had spotted her, expressing his pleasure of seeing her verbally as well as with a slightly tentative hug, she found Mac with what she assumed was a new pitcher of beer. She opened her mouth in protest but the smile which lit up Mac's face the same instant had her shut it again with an inward sigh of surrender. A beer more or less wouldn't make a difference to his hangover tomorrow and she raised her own then halted. Staring in confusion at the amount she could have sworn had already been less, she blamed the fatigue and took a sip. Almost skillfully Danny and Flack lured her further into the conversation and dutifully Danny replaced her empty pitcher with a full one.

She pointed out briefly that she had agreed to only one but didn't object further, grateful for the opportunity to let go and unwind; to spend an evening so far away from work and with her best friend completely relaxed – even though it was with the help of alcohol. More and more often they exchanged a few quiet words, making each other smile, the looks and laughs they shared gladly taken advantage of by Danny and Flack. The two provided numerous refills and didn't even back off when Stella turned a moment earlier than they had anticipated, narrowly missing out on catching them. Unfazed they filled up Mac's beer at the next possibility and served Stella a third one which she accepted without protest. Just like she allowed Mac to draw her in between his legs a moment later while he mumbled something about her not needing to stand when there was enough room for the two of them. That certainly was debatable but he pulled her onto the stool, his arm remaining around her stomach to prevent her from slipping off. Both were oblivious to any significance of their closeness and as time moved on and the alcohol took a strong hold on the both of them, their conversation became more flirtatious, everyone else being cut out as they communicated in a language only they appeared to understand.

Neither of them noticed when their almost empty pitchers were suddenly close to half full again, nor were they aware of the number of new drinks Danny and Flack supplied them with occasionally or the strange taste the sporadic shots of vodka later added. They were completely absorbed by each other and it wasn't until they had actually tasted it that they realized that they had agreed to drink to Adam with pure vodka. However, they accepted a second and third fill and it was Stella who then wanted a fourth, reaching for the bottle. Serving Mac first, a look of disappointment crossed her face as she discovered that there was only a sip left and she shook the bottle to make sure the last drop was out until Flack grabbed it out of her hand. She narrowed her eyes at him yet she didn't even listen to him slurring something about hurting herself, the interest in the bottle already gone.

"You drink it." She had turned to Mac instead, leaning backwards and onto the counter, almost shoving the glass into his face.

"Why me?" He grinned, his arms safely wrapped around her so she wouldn't fall.

An amused chuckle was her answer before she shrugged.

"You deserve it," she decided, shifting so her face was only inches from his.

He studied her, then, with a demonstrative glance, wrapped his hand around hers, leading the glass to his mouth and tossed the little bit of liquid back.

"See," she smirked. "You deserved it." They stayed close for another moment before she slid off the stool, the couple of steps she took a bit shaky and she nearly fell backwards when Mac caught her arm.

"Where you going?"

"Home." She smirked again. "To have some fun." Running her eyes over him inspecting, her smirk grew wider. "You coming?" A flirtatious spark appeared behind the glassiness of her eyes and she regarded him temptingly.

He mirrored her grin and stood as well, clasping the counter for support.

"I think I'm drunk," he stated bluntly.

"Naw," Danny shook his head violently.

"Just a little unsteady," Flack quipped, a chuckle coming from his left where the brunette clung to his shoulder.

Lifting his shoulders indifferently, Mac let go of the breakfast bar and calling a "goodnight" at no one in particular, he clutched Stella's hand, pulling her with him. She almost stumbled into him, that though only amusing both of them, and regaining their balance, they went into the hallway.

"I gotta pee," she announced dramatically, stomping off into the direction of the bathroom and had he not released her hand, she would have taken him with her. Flashing him a grin, she disappeared inside but stuck her head back out an instant later. "I had a jacket." It was all she said before she shut the door once more.

He stared at it then looked around the hallway searchingly.

"Where'd it go?" he asked with no one there to answer.

His gaze fell onto the apartment door and he fixated it with his stare, an idea forming. He headed towards it, opened it, checking the empty corridor, closing it again then moved to the closet door to his right. Several jackets greeted him and he studied them intensively when Stella snuck her arms around his waist, resting her chin on the shoulder she peeked over.

"Any of those yours?" He didn't turn and kept gazing at Adam's jackets.

"No." Her reply was hesitant. "Don't think I hid it in there."

After spending another instant staring into the dark space, Mac shut the door and with Stella's arms still wrapped around his waist, he trotted to the next door. It was the bathroom that they checked out regardless but quickly went on as there was no jacket in sight. Finally though they were greeted by a stack of jackets in the adjacent bedroom, approaching and staring, seemingly waiting for Stella's to jump out on its own.

When it didn't, Mac tugged one out yet the color didn't suit him and he threw it back, picking another.

"That yours?" He kept gazing at the jacket two sizes larger than hers would be.

"Don't know." She glared at it scrutinizing, her fingers toying with the lower buttons of his shirt.

"No," she eventually concluded and he tossed it back, her hands suddenly slipping below his belt.

"Stella!" His voice was firm and she jumped a little, a grin appearing on her features.

"Right here." With her arms firmly back around his waist, she let her upper body slide around his until her face was in front of his, however, hanging from his body, she was unable to maintain her balance, both of them tumbling onto the bed. Her only reaction was a girlish fit of giggles as he stared at her in confusion, his mind too slow to immediately know what had happened.

"That was fun." He grinned at her and she once more erupted into childish chuckles, then she stopped abruptly, pulling at a black sleeve that showed from the pile of fabric. Scrambling off of her, he helped, a couple of jackets falling to the floor yet he managed to get it out and after he had steadied himself, he held it out to her. She studied it thoroughly before giving her approval.

"I think I own that." Again, she found it funny but shuffled off the bed, reaching for the jacket Mac still had. She attempted to get it on twice then thrust it back at him and as well as he possibly could, he assisted her. Another minute and a few more giggles passed until she was wearing it the way it was supposed to be worn and after she remembered that the purse sitting on the dresser was hers – and not Adam's as she wondered briefly – they walked out of the bedroom.

Shouting one more "goodnight" into the general direction of the guests, Mac opened the door, almost swinging it into his face. He threw it a glare of disapproval before following Stella out into the hallway, hurrying to catch up with her as she strode purposefully and surprisingly firmly towards where she assumed the elevators were.

"It almost hit me!" he exclaimed, no amusement in his voice. "Just rude," he muttered.

She didn't comment and they continued in silence but soon found themselves in front of a solid wall.

"Where'd the elevator go?" Confused she shifted towards Mac who was staring just as puzzled.

"Maybe they rebuilt it," he suggested, twisting his head in search of an elevator hiding place then turned around and swept Stella with him. Caught by surprise she tripped over her feet, stumbling into Mac and sending them both toppling against the wall.

"You're drunk, too," he pointed out once they had recovered and were standing on their own again.

"No," she dragged out, letting him grab her hand. "Just had one beer." She lifted a single finger to emphasize the number, holding it directly in front of his eyes.

"After the other." He placed a kiss on the finger and she grinned happily.

"Couldn't drink them all at the same time," she replied matter-of-factly then stopped. "We've been here before." She gazed almost surprised at Adam's apartment door.

"Yeah…" Mac's eyes lingered on the door until he became aware of Stella's regarding him and they exchanged a look before finally moving on, soon standing in front of the elevators. "Found them," he mumbled and she nodded vigorously, pressing the button.

He did the same just for the sake of it and grinned at her as she pushed the button once more.

"Why'd you do that?" he wanted to know, hitting the button again.

"You're doing it too." It was her turn to touch the button.

"You started it." He frowned, doing his share of the game, the doors opening.

Giving her a victorious look, he stepped inside, her fingers slipping out of his as she remained standing, displeased that the doors had opened under his command.

"That's unfair," she complained, crossing her arms in front of her chest yet following him inside. "They like you better."

"Who?" He studied her confused and she, too, let her gaze linger on him, his ignorance consolation enough for her mood to rise again.

"I…" Her lips curled into a smile and she leaned in to him," am not going to tell you," she finished in a mysterious whisper, her hands touching his shoulder and chest.

She glanced up at him with a triumphant expression and he opened his mouth in protest but didn't, about to push the lobby button when her hand shot out. Her finger touched the button first and she smirked proudly, a gesture he mirrored as his arm moved around her waist, pulling her close.

"I love you, you know."

"Sure, I do," Her hands glided around his neck and a moment later she had lifted her feet off the ground, grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat. Instinctively, his hold on her tightened as he struggled not to let her slip from his grip.  
"I love you, too," she promised, her head raised so she could look at him while she continued to dangle from his neck.

"Good." He was pleased with the answer. "'Cause I love you very much."

"How much?" she wanted to know in girlish curiosity as the elevator doors opened and she shifted, staring at the opening.

"Very much," he repeated, her gaze reconnecting with his. "You gotta have to let go."

She eyed him in consideration, pondering whether to believe him or not.

"Don't want to," she whined but got to her feet nevertheless and he pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking her hand.

She, too, let her lips connect with his skin and pleased with herself she followed him into the lobby, the slippery tile floor proving to be just as much of a challenge as did the revolving door.

"No cab," she voiced the obvious when they finally stepped into the night.

"No…" he replied thoughtfully, glancing up and down the street as if a cab might magically appear.

Since neither quite knew what to do, they stood in silence, holding hands and staring at the abandoned street.

"Are we lost?" Her eyes huge, she turned towards him, his gaze meeting hers only a second later.

"No." His answer was firm.

"Then why are we standing here?" She frowned and surveyed the area, giving the impression of not having an idea of where she was.

"You wanna walk?" He kept looking at her and she considered his suggestion then grinned at him.

"You going to carry me?" Her arms moved back around his neck, her lips lingering within breathing distance from his.

"No." The answer was prompt but didn't please her.

"Why not?"

Not entirely sure, he stared at her, his brows furrowed in deliberation.

"I'm too old," he concluded, obviously satisfied.

"No you're not," she replied yet stepped away from him. "You're just… right." Her eyes wandered over his body and lingered below his belt before she lifted them back up to his, her lips curled into a content grin. "Just right," she repeated and he grinned as well, taking her hand back into his.

Without another word, he started to walk towards his left and once again his energetic tug made her stumble after him in surprise. They both swayed but regained their stability before anything happened and setting one foot in front of the other in measured movements they continued up the street. Soon, Stella started to attempt to balance along the grooves between the sidewalk stones, failing miserably yet unwilling to give up.

"We should come here more often." Mac had stopped abruptly, bringing Stella to a halt as well.

"Definitely," she agreed and they exchanged a delighted glance before resuming their cautious walk.

They hadn't gotten far when they startled a cat out of its hiding place, both jerking unnecessarily out of its way and staring after it.

"Next time look where you're going!" Stella called annoyed into the general direction it had disappeared to.

"Or we'll arrest you," Mac added, his head also twisted to somewhere behind him. They bumped into each other but after a brief effort to regain their balance, they strolled on more or less unaffected.

"Exactly!" Stella confirmed then turned towards Mac. "Can we do that?"

He shrugged.

"Never tried." He studied her almost ruefully yet she repeated his shrugging and they walked in silence until they finally reached the corner of a busier street. People – even if only few – were mingling around and several small stores were still open, their neon signs lighting the street. They reduced their careful pace and stopped to survey the area.

"Wanna get a drink?" Mac had located a 24 hour bar and she thought for an instant but shook her head.

"Naw…" She let her gaze wander over the store fronts until she found something that spiked her interest. "I want a tattoo." A satisfied grin spread over her face and she looked at him determined.

"You want my permission?" He grinned at her, the prospect clearly appealing.

"I want," she bend forward, her lips touching his skin and she let herself get distracted, trailing them along his jaw. "I want," she remembered what she had leaned in for and moved a little closer to his ear, "you to tell me where to put it." Her voice, even though quiet, was dramatic and she pulled back, her eyes full of pleasure and excitement while his wandered over her lustfully, lingering on her feminine figure.

"You get to undress me later," she smirked and scooted closer again, her legs touching his yet all he did was back away.

"I'm trying to decide." He studied her in deep concentration, too intoxicated to let anything, not even a seductive comment like hers, divert his focus.

She shifted her weight, now seeming almost displeased with his impassiveness and with a sigh, she inspected their still clasped hands. Impatiently, she counted their fingers, puzzling herself with the number she came up with and recounting, only to get a different result. Her next attempt produced the same number of fingers than the first and she grunted discreetly, trying again.

"What you wanna get?"

Startled, she looked up then shrugged.

"Something nice," she grinned, not at all concerned. "And mysterious. And pretty. Like me. You. The same you have." Her grin widened.

"Me?" He lowered his gaze in search for a tattoo that, even if present, would be hidden by his clothing anyway. "Don't have a tattoo." His voice was apologetic and her features fell in disappointment.

"Why not?"

Now it was his turn to shrug and they stood opposite each other in silence rather helplessly.

"Maybe you have now." She was unwilling to give up, hope flickering in her otherwise shiny eyes.

"You want to check?" he offered and she grinned, taking a step towards him.

"And if I don't find one," she paused as she seemed to have lost her train of thought, fumbling with the buttons of his collar. "You get one as well." She remembered, beaming at him.

"Later," he decided. "After we found a cab."

"And I got the tattoo," she reminded him.

"Yes." He grinned, his eyes studying hers as they just stood in the middle of the street, his lips then meeting hers seemingly for the lack of nothing better to do. Flaring desire shot through their bodies that confused them at first but they were quickly lost in an eager battle for dominance, tasting and exploring, soon unable to tell lips and tongues apart. They invaded each other's mouth like it was their own, appearing to want to make up for all the kisses they had so far missed out on, neither of them the least concerned with where they were. Their fingers had begun a passionate play in sync with their mouths, caressing, loosening and intertwining and he wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her tight. Heat and anticipation surged through them, the tension growing with each deepening of the kiss until she withdrew rather suddenly. Her body heaved against his and he looked at her questioningly yet all she offered him was a meaningful grin. He seemed to understand though, grinning in return and without another word he drew her with him towards the tattoo parlor.

A moment after they had stepped inside, the typically tattooed artist came out from the back and he listened to Stella's somewhat giddy request, Mac throwing in a comment every now and then. Short, pointless discussions followed and the artist waited patiently until those were sorted out. If he caught on to their drunken state, he hid it well and eventually began to draw up some sketches, giving the impression of not being the least bothered when Stella snatched the pencil out of his hand at one point. She leaned over the desk, so far that Mac pulled her back possessively and she turned towards him with a flirtatious smirk before her attention returned to the paper in front of her. Remaining a little more upright and content to feel Mac's arm around her waist, she scratched a few things off while adding a few others, scribbling some Greek writing on top of the paper with painful care. Happy with her work, she shoved the sheet back at the artist and under her strict gaze and orders he eventually produced a drawing she liked. After she and Mac had each signed a liability waiver they were led to the back and numb to most of the pain due to the alcohol, they – primarily she – chatted animatedly as the artist got to work. Mac's tattoo was quickly taken care of but Stella's took some time and it was way into the night when they finally emerged again.

"That was expensive." Mac had paid for the both of them and was still holding the credit card receipt, gazing at it as if the amount would change if he kept staring at it long enough.

"All worth it," Stella determined, stealing the paper out of Mac's hand. She looked at it yet was unable to understand the numbers and shoved it into her purse. "I'm paying next time."

She smiled at him as he slipped his hand around her waist, leading her to the curb and they soon had hailed a cab. He didn't let go of her and they struggled to squeeze past the cars parked along the street but ultimately managed to reach the yellow car. Mac opened the door and a little unsteady, Stella crawled inside, Mac following just as insecurely, shutting the door behind him with a little too much force.

"He's strong." Stella grinned at the driver who returned the gesture politely.

"Where to?" His tone implied that he didn't expect an answer and was mentally preparing to deliver them to the nearest precinct to sober up.

"My place," Stella said decisively, ignoring Mac's surprise but was surprised herself when the driver inquired where that would be.

She exchanged a glance with Mac and after she had pieced her address together, the cab was set into motion. Content, she turned back to Mac, her eyes moving over his body then she shifted closer, her leg crawling over his.

"I want memories," she purred into his ear, her tongue giving his earlobe a quick lick before her lips tugged at it.

Delighting over its elasticity, she nibbled at the sensitive skin, teasing him and moving even closer when he turned, reuniting their lips in a hungry kiss. They took up where they had left off, his arms wrapping around her and with one leg still over his thighs, she wriggled to her knee. Her palms cupped his cheek as they greedily devoured each other's mouths like high school kids and oblivious to any possible consequences of being in a cab, they lost themselves in their desire. Alternating between passionate and eager and affectionate and slow, their lips and tongues kept dueling until the brief honking of a horn had Stella jerk away from Mac. She dropped into the seat next to him, not bothering to lift her leg off the man beside her.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"241 is a bit further down." The driver explained as he pulled over, ignoring his passenger's question. "Thought you might want to swing by the drug store though." He gave them a toothy grin but was regarded with puzzlement.

"Drug store?" Mac repeated with a frown then studied Stella. "She doesn't live in a drug store."

She chuckled over his obvious joke while the driver once more grinned out of politeness and waited until they had finished another, fortunately quicker, kiss.

Detangling his hands from Stella, Mac fumbled for his wallet and Stella watched with interest as he counted the bills before remembering to offer a protest. Yet Mac had already tossed the money at the driver by the time she had located her purse and he flung the door open, almost tumbling out of the car with it.

"Careful," the driver remarked and was rewarded with another grin of Stella's. She scrambled after Mac who was steadying himself with the door, offering her a hand that she took and once the alcohol inflicted difficulties of coordination were overcome, she, too, stood beside the car.

"Let's do that again some time," she smiled widely and as Mac shut the door of the cab – once again with way too much force – she balanced herself through the parked cars towards the sidewalk. He followed as quickly as possible and a moment later they stepped inside the drug store, looking around in curiosity. They declined the help the clerk offered and walked aimlessly through the aisles, not entirely sure as to what they were doing in the store in the first place.

"Nothing I want," Stella concluded as they passed the last row yet Mac stopped and she threw a gaze at what had caught his interest. "Oh!" she exclaimed, studying the generous choice of condoms.

"I'm on birth control," she remembered, her voice almost reproachful as if Mac should have known. "I'm safe." She grinned.

"I'm not." Mac's eyes didn't leave the shelf and another "oh" was all that Stella replied, fixing her intense gaze back on the latex protection. "But I want to be safe," he added.

"I feel pretty safe with you," she flirted, putting his arm around her slender waist. "See, I'm safe."

Her grin was still in place, however, he didn't seem to find it amusing and she sighed in exaggeration.

"If I'm sick you're not safe," he said smartly.

She opened her mouth but shut it again, studying him.

"And we're not going to risk your health." His voice was determined and a loving smile appeared on her face.

"That's sweet." She beamed like he had promised her the moon, rewarding him with a tender kiss to his nose before her attention was once more directed to the condoms. "I want those." Her fingers snatched a black package. "And I'm gonna pay," she pronounced importantly. He didn't object and with him in tow, she approached the counter, repeating her announcement to the clerk. She only smiled, asking if they were also interested in acquiring some aspirin which both declined and with the condoms paid for, they left the store.

Out of sheer luck they chose to walk in the right direction and Stella looked at each building they passed profoundly before she slowed in front of one.

"That yours?" Mac asked, his eyes wandering up and down the apartment complex.

"I hope so," she grinned and they headed to the entrance, the door swinging open only after she had tried several of the keys on her key ring, some of them twice.

"Mine," she exclaimed and with their hands joined they headed for the elevator. Much to her delight, the doors opened only seconds after she had pressed the button and they stepped inside. She needed an instant to figure out the floor but once she had, it didn't take long until they reached the designated storey.

The corridor was quiet, that making them shy away from any conversation and soon they stopped in front of her apartment door. Again, she stared at her keys in confusion, turning and inspecting them before she opted to repeat the method of trying each. One by one she attempted to push them inside the lock, Mac watching with increasing impatience as none seemed to fit. His arms slid around her body while she tried one upside down for the third time, frowning and barely noticing the lips which were skimming her skin. With each unsuccessful attempt, his touch became more intense and he let his hands wander, first sliding under the jacket then opening it. He had reached her breasts when a key finally slipped into the lock and she turned it, the door swinging open faster than she had anticipated. They stumbled through it and leaving her no time to recover, he pushed her against the wall. Any protest about the keys still in the lock died instantly on her lips as his trailed down her neck, his body pressing into hers and she pulled him closer with every display of affection his mouth offered. Encouraged, he got more daring, using teeth and tongue in equal parts, a lustful moan the last thing that was heard before the closing door shut them out from the rest of humanity and into their own world of pleasure.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

My thanks goes, as always, to Lily_Moonlight for reading and correcting!

Many thanks also for the alerts and encouraging reviews which were all very nice to read.

So, this is really the final chapter - and it goes back to the present. Enjoy.

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She knew what woke her the following morning; it was the familiar smell of coffee and rolling over, her lips formed into a smile even before she opened her eyes. Mac was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his suit, a mug in his hand and she scrambled into a more upright position. As he brushed a few curls out of her line of vision, she took the mug from him and having expressed her thanks, she drank a large sip.

"I'll go home and change," he explained and she nodded. "I'll see you at the lab." Once more he tugged one of her disarranged curls out of her face, his fingertips lingering on her skin. Another, much fainter smiled appeared on her lips and instants passed until she felt his hand cup her cheek and he leaned in, touching his mouth to hers.

Shutting her eyes, she allowed herself to savor that moment of intimacy, of affection; the tenderness with which their lips caressed each other. Tremendous warmth veiled every cell of her body, the sensation still filled with the excitement of novelty and it was only with reluctance that she let Mac begin to draw back. She held on to his mouth for as long as possible and she could feel him smile once he noticed her maneuvers to prolong the kiss, eventually though, they parted.

With a soft sigh of contentment she sank back into the pillows, opening her eyes only when his hand left her skin. Her gaze found his and her lips curled into a smile full of that same satisfaction, his mouth mirroring her action, even if more shyly. For a second she expected him to say something yet he stood and was about to turn.

"Don't be late." A spark of mischief lit up his eyes at his words and she grinned.

"Actually," she placed the mug next to her on the nightstand and scrambled to her knees, her gaze scanning over him provocatively, "I didn't plan on coming in at all." She shrugged casually as if she couldn't be bothered with work.

"Are you already taking advantage of sleeping with the boss?" He lifted his brows, his eyes however, skimmed over her sparsely dressed body.

"Why else did you think I'm doing it?" She, too, raised her brows, but her hands slid up the hem of his suit jacket and reaching the collar she pulled him towards her.

"There's that thing," he mused, his arms snaking around her torso, "I think, it's called love."

"Overrated," she dismissed with a smirk, her lips then grazing his. He responded, pulling her closer and she shut her eyes, her hands slipping around his neck as their mouths melted into a tender kiss. They granted themselves another moment just for the two of them and this time neither drew back first. The affectionate play simply found an end, their lips parting and their eyes reopening.

"I have to go." His words were barely a whisper, his voice laced with a hint of hoarseness and he cleared his throat, repeating his short sentence.

As much as it was appealing to keep her hands clasped behind his neck, she knew that she couldn't and nodding, she let her palms glide over his shoulders and chest until her arms dropped back beside her. To her surprise, he placed another quick kiss on her lips before he turned and she watched him walk to the door. Throwing her a smile, he disappeared into the hallway and moments later, she heard the front door shut behind him.

Bending her knees her body dropped down, the mattress bouncing slightly while she stared at the door. All of a sudden everything seemed surreal; all visible trace of his presence had vanished and when she would face him in roughly an hour, they would talk as detectives Mac Taylor and Stella Bonasera, the long-time colleagues and friends. Nothing was supposed to indicate that something had changed, that they had determined yesterday, lying in bed, her head resting on his chest and she had to smile as she recalled the most feathery touch she had ever experienced with which his fingertips had caressed her back.

Yet it all seemed so much different now when she was confronted with it; odd that she would address the man she loved and now shared her bed with as if the past two nights had never happened.

But others had previously dealt with the same situation successfully and certainly more than once; it was a simple matter of adjustment just like everything else that concerned the new development of their relationship. They might knew each other inside out already which would give them an advantage many couples didn't have in certain areas. However, in most aspects they were as ordinary as everyone else and faced the same difficulties, the juggle of work and private life most definitely one of those.

Still absent-mindedly, she pulled her nighty over her head and slipped from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom. Catching her reflection in the mirror, her gaze fell inadvertently on the tattoo and almost dreamily she let her fingertips trace the outline. It was proof that he _had_ been with her, here; proof of his love, of what they were and her doubts fading from her mind, she stepped under the hot water of the shower. They would learn the separation of work and private life; it would maybe take them a little time but they were willing to, as they had concluded within seconds yesterday. It would even give them the chance to fulfill the Equal Rights Amendment, something she had grinningly pointed out; each would get to be the boss at one place. Her look had dared him to object and he hadn't, his lips simply meeting hers, officially ending the talk. Any talking for that matter, at least for the following half hour or so.

She couldn't help the girlish smirk that spread over her features at the memory and absorbed in her thoughts, seconds passed before she realized the water turning cold. Startled she freed her face from shampoo, staring at the jet of water then cursed when the temperature refused to respond to any of her attempts to change it. Getting cold, she gave up and with as little water as possible touching anything but her hair, she rinsed out the remains of shampoo. The decision to forgo the conditioner was an easy one and she enveloped her curls in a towel then quickly dried off the rest of her body.

Wrapping herself into a terry-cloth bathrobe she left the bathroom and took her mug of coffee, heading to the kitchen for a refill. The hot liquid helped her to warm up again and feeling the chill subside, she returned to the bathroom. She finished her shower ritual by treating her skin to some lotion and once back in the bedroom, she slipped into her underwear, a pair of pants following. However, she hesitated to pull the top, she had chosen, off the hanger and after a moment of internal debate it went back into the closet in favor for one Mac had already complimented her on – in his own subtle way but making her smile with it nonetheless. The suit jacket was next to leave the wardrobe yet it had to settle on the bed for the time being.

Returning to the bathroom, she dried her hair and completed the rest of her morning routine before finding her phone. The connection of her janitor was busy and she got herself another cup of coffee then tried again. She scowled when she had to listen to the busy signal for the second time and glanced at her watch, her frown deepening. Impatient, she toyed with the phone but set that as well as the mug down an instant later, reaching for her purse. She dropped badge, shield and cell phone together with other items she needed into it and gripping her phone again, she only barely prevented the mug from falling down.

Coffee still had spilled and determining that she would have to change her pants, she hurried into the kitchen. She grabbed some paper towels with which she dried off the furniture then went to change. Her hopes that those pants might not rub against the still irritated skin on her hip were fast to evaporate and fidgeting with her the fabric, she redialed the number of her janitor.

Seconds later she learnt that she was the fifth to complain about a hot water problem, the cause most likely a broken water heater. Retrieving a muffin from the kitchen, she was assured that the company in charge had already been called yet it was unknown when the problem would be solved. Displeased she hung up and took a hasty bite from the muffin, choking as she tried to swallow the pastry together with a sip of coffee and breathe at the same time. She coughed a couple of times, almost spilling more of the coffee before she sat the mug down and having recovered, she glanced at her watch once more. To her own surprise the frown which had started to form was replaced by a smile, Mac's playful voice echoing in her head.

She wasn't late. Not yet. But she would be. Her pants rubbed against her skin too intensely for her to make it through an entire work day without protection and since she was sure that gauze of the required size was not in her first aid kit, a trip to the drug store had become inevitable. Still, she decided to check, to her astonishment discovering the gauze but not the tape. With a slight shake of her head she threw the bandage onto her bed, grabbing her jacket almost simultaneously. Snatching her keys she then hurried out the door and rushed down the sidewalk, only subconsciously aware and thus ignoring the sensation of uneasiness that increased with each step she took.

She almost burst into the store and the clerk glanced up from the magazine she was reading, the acknowledging nod Stella offered being responded to with a board grin. Puzzlement surged through her for a split second, however, she was quick to shake that feeling and strode along the aisles searching. When she passed the counter again not yet having found what she was looking for, the clerk offered her assistance, a subtlety in the woman's voice, her eyes, prompting the confusion to return. She seemed to know something; hide something, Stella couldn't exactly tell which or if either. All she was aware of was that the uneasiness had become clearly perceptible and she studied the woman, wondering. There was nothing though that she was able to point her finger at and realizing that she was still looked at expectantly, she chose to accept the help.

Soon after she stood in front of several choices of tape and grabbing the cheapest, she returned to the counter. Fumbling for the money, the clerk's curious eyes didn't escape her gaze and about to snap a comment at the cashier, a realization dawned on her.

"Were you working the night before last?" The question was almost careful and handing the amount over in cash, Stella received an affirmative answer.

It was only confirming what she had known the instant she had asked and groaning silently, she muttered a thanks, taking the plastic bag before leaving the store. A few droplets of drain touched down on her skin and she glanced skywards, wordlessly reminding the rain that it hadn't been in the forecast until tomorrow. Yet seeing those clouds she strongly suspected that it wouldn't care and with a sigh of surrender, she hurried back to her building.

A few minutes later she stood inside her bedroom, her pants pushed down as far as they would go unopened but otherwise fully dressed. However, her assumption that it would save her time was quickly proven wrong; her jacket refused to stay out of her line of vision and with the gauze slipping because she was unable to hold it properly in place with just one hand, the tape stuck where it wasn't supposed to be. Throwing a ball of the sticky material onto the floor she tugged a fresh string from the roll, only to once again find it tangled in the fabric of her clothes. About to attempt anew, she caught the time, a moment of hesitation following before she readjusted her pants. The short walk to and from her car wouldn't make any difference now and once at the lab she would drag Mac into the locker room so he could help.

Returning to the hallway, she dropped tape and gauze into her purse, grabbing it and rushing out of her apartment. The steps with which she walked down the corridor were as fast and she was relieved to find the elevator still at her floor. Once inside she threw another glance at her watch, an inevitable smile crossing her face again, when the image of Mac's skeptical look flashed in front of her eyes. She would call him as soon as she was in the car… she realized that same instant she didn't have; both the Avalanche and her kit being at the lab. Adding another curse to those that had already escaped her lips this morning, she hit the button for the lobby with too much force and for a moment she almost expected the elevator to stop. It didn't though and she found herself stepping into the lobby seconds later.

Luckily, the rain had stopped but it still took her several minutes until she had hailed a cab, feeling already drained upon sinking into the seat.

As good as the morning had begun, the worse it appeared to get the longer it lasted and she was already longing to become simply Stella again. The girlfriend who would be able to unwind in her boyfriend's caring arms; savoring that newfound love and who would maybe would succeed in luring a foot massage out of the man she adored and she now knew she was adored by.

Thinking of that; of him, she searched for her phone, fearing for a second that had forgotten it and would be forced to turn around then her fingers grazed the familiar plastic at the bottom of her purse. The line was busy and she grumbled at the phone, however, it rang almost the same instant.

"You have the honors of what appears to be a double homicide," Mac's voice offered as soon as she had answered. For the briefest of an instant she found the lack of greeting disturbing but quickly rid herself of that feeling. It was neither appropriate nor called for. "Lower east Side, East River."

"Thrilling," Stella blurted out, meaning the location rather than the crime. "Who's with me?"

"Just you. Hawkes and Danny are already out and Lindsay took a sick day because Lucy has the flu."

Which meant overtime, she concluded as he told her about the whereabouts of a couple of others of their CSI's; with her luck today it would probably turn into a double shift and the relaxing evening in her boyfriend's arms was suddenly receding further into the distance.

"What about you?" she inquired.

"I'm on my way to the DA, something about the Ramirez case." She grimaced at him mentioning it. The DA had been breathing down their necks ever since the arrest and he and she were already sufficiently stressed out about it. Yet it also meant that the taping of her skin would have to wait until they were both back... "Although," Mac went on and he could hear the faintest trace of a smile in his voice, "to be honest, I'm stuck in traffic."

"So am I." She couldn't hide the grin.

"You're not yet at the lab?" The surprise was audible in his voice and she could clearly picture the frown with which he checked his watch, confirming that it was indeed as late as he assumed.

"No." The answer was simple and she sensed his debate whether or not to comment. "I'll probably need another 20 minutes," she added when he didn't respond. He didn't reply to that either, just informed her that Flack was there and after she had promised to call him, they hung up.

The call to Flack was short, she simply assured him that she would be there as soon as she could – and that she was; soon, however, turned into a full hour. She had been cornered to provide some desperately needed signatures the moment she had stepped out the elevator – the eagerness making her wonder if Mac had even been at the lab this morning at all – and when she had finally been able to reach her car, once more entering Manhattan traffic, the lights hadn't acted in her favor either. It seemed she had had to stop at each and every one she had passed and wishing again for the day to be over, she had eventually pulled up in front of the crime scene.

"You're late." Flack ducked under the tape to join her, a grin plastered over his face.

She didn't answer, instead she rewarded him with a deadly stare and yanked her kit from the backseat, nearly squashing her finger upon closing the door.

"Bad day?" The grin had vanished from his face.

"Don't ask," she grunted, becoming aware of his eyes that darted searchingly.

"You're alone?" His voice was curious and she raised her brows at him.

"What does it look like?" The reply was snappier than she had intended to and she took a deep breath, following him under the yellow tape closer to the water. "Who should I be with?"

"I don't know," he shrugged as she fumbled discreetly with her pants, the attempts futile since the fabric continued to rub at the irritated skin regardless of how she arranged it. "Mac?"

"Why?" Again, her voice was harsher than she had meant it to be and she was certain that a flicker of consternation crossed Flack's face.

"Because…" He obviously wasn't sure how to phrase what was on his mind. "Where is he?"

"Could you just stop playing 20 questions, Flack?" She sounded weary, she was aware of that but she really wasn't in the mood for any interrogation.

"I was just…"

"He's at court," Stella cut in then drew in a sharp breath as her gaze fell on the crime scene; one body lying close to where they had stopped, another further down, shell casings she didn't even want to begin to count spread around them, fragments of glass and something else of probably the same count in between. "And he'd better stay where he is or I'll wring his neck!" She dropped her kit, not sure whether to be amused or not; the only thing she knew was that it would be hours before she would be finished.

"I guess that would make you even," Flack quipped and she turned to him in confusion. All the amusement faded from his face and he shrugged a little insecurely.

"Call him," Stella demanded, ignoring his comment and fishing for some gloves. "I'm not processing that by myself!"

"You could do…"

"No, I can't," she barked and Flack looked at her almost taken aback, concern once more veiling his features. For an instant she closed her eyes, recomposing herself before offering an apology. "Just call him please," her voice had softened but was still strained. "So I can get started…here." Once more her gaze wandered over the crime scene then she glanced up at the sky. The clouds hadn't changed a bit and beginning to process the scene, she prepared herself for being rained on in a little while.

"Mac'll try and send someone," Flack informed her and she nodded, barely looking up from her task but sensing the eyes that didn't leave her body. "He was a bit… tight-lipped."

At that, she did raise her gaze, finding Flack studying her almost suspiciously, the trace of concern back in his eyes.

"What happened here?" She decided to ignore his remark and with the emotion vanishing, he told her the little they knew. Continuing to document the scene, she nodded at the appropriate places, asking an occasional question; the usual back and forth. Except for that hint in his voice, that tiny timbre which indicated that his mind was pre-occupied and was responsible for the longer glances she sent him every now and then.

Eventually he fell silent yet contrary to his routine, he stayed right where he was, his eyes remaining on her body. It bothered her, in a way, being observed and so closely wasn't something she felt comfortable with and even less so today. However, she didn't want to snap at him again and tried to ignore it as best as she could. But the tension appeared to grow with each passing minute and dropping the – if she hadn't lost count – 24th casing into an evidence bag, she looked up.

"Is there anything else?" Her voice was as expectant as her gaze and he opened his mouth yet shut it again before he reopened it.

"I just…" He was hesitant and fidgeting a bit uncomfortable. "Not about the case…" Again he glanced at her unsurely. "Are you and Mac…" He broke off for the third time then shrugged, "I mean, are you – you know, on… good terms?"

Not entirely certain what to make of the question, she frowned, a look of puzzlement crossing her features.

"What kind of question is that?" Her response made it clear that she wasn't up for any games and with ongoing hesitation he studied her.

"Forget it, Stella," he dismissed it and mumbling something about seeing her later, he turned around before she had a chance to say anything else.

She took too long to decide whether or not to hold him back and still confused, she watched him leave. Sympathy arose inside of her and she considered following him, already standing but opting to stay she crouched down again. She would call him later, apologize, for now though she had to work and with a shake of her head she cleared her mind, returning her focus to the casings. Without anyone else in sight, a strange silence settled over the abandoned area that not even the flapping of the water seemed to disrupt, its grayish color blended with the grey of the pier, the clouds, the buildings in between; everything looking the same and sending a chill through her body. It was one of those crime scenes she wouldn't have wanted to be at without the assurance that officers were mingling around somewhere, nevertheless she jumped slightly at the shadow falling over her. Needing a moment to organize her thoughts, she nodded her permission for the bodies to being taken and watched as the corpses were wheeled away before her eyes surveyed the scene once more. Even without the bodies it didn't appear much different from when she had arrived.

"You're a dead man, Mac," she muttered under her breath.

"I hadn't noticed."

Surprised, she looked up and despite herself she had to smile at him, getting a brief one in return.

"That was a short meeting." Her anger had vanished and she watched him set the kit down, inspecting the crime scene.

"I left," his eyes met hers and she acknowledged the information wordlessly. There was no need for her to ask why; it had been just another of those pointless discussions the DA initiated to make sure everything would go smoothly at the trial.

"I'm sorry," his apology brought her focus back to the current scene and she threw him a questioning look then realized that he had caught the number of the marker for the casing she had just photographed. "If I had known it was that bad I would have sent Danny – by himself." While his voice was serious, it was laced with lightness and she found the corners of her lips tugging into a smile.

"Let's call him," she suggested and a faint grin spread over his face. Their eyes met again, twinkling, and as professional as he was, his feelings for her were clearly visible; had been apparent in the depth of his eyes ever since he had joined her. She was relieved that he, too, wasn't able to just push a switch; that the last two nights, the change in their relationship, hadn't just evaporated from his mind because they were at work.

He didn't offer anything else and she filled him in on what she knew. Acknowledging the information accordingly, he crouched down a little further from her and as she went back to the casings, he began to busy himself with the glass. They worked in a comfortable silence, their exchanges of words brief and concerning findings and assumptions. Finishing one of those, she let her eyes linger as he concentrated on the fragments again, the ghost of a smile crossing her face. They were so at ease, nothing indicating that anything in their relationship had changed; exactly like they had said and she realized just how far their relationship had already been before they had crossed that final line. For an instant she wondered if there had actually still been a line yet it didn't matter anymore. What did was simply the knowledge that it would work; that they would work despite the tempers which would just as surely clash every now and then and satisfied she dropped her eyes back to the concrete.

The last casings somehow were dealt with a lot quicker and she moved on to the still unidentified splinters. Eventually she reached the final piece of evidence, dropping it into a bag and sealing it before giving Mac a look of relief. She couldn't remember the last time a scene had dragged on as long as this one and with her knees protesting, she stood up straight. They gathered their kits as well as the boxes of evidence and with a concluding glance over the scene, they started towards their cars. It was Mac who broke the silence, inquiring to the reason for her being late and she filled him in, including the short conversation with the drug store clerk. He winced at the reminder of their surely embarrassing behavior from two nights ago then looked at her skeptically a second later when she mentioned that he would have to patch her up properly. She explained that as they reached the car and quickly wrapped up the rest of her morning's events while they stored boxes and kits in equal parts in their vehicles.

Throwing the doors shut, they exchanged another few words before climbing inside and Stella had barely started the car when it started pouring. Stunned, she stared at the water splashing down on the windshield until a honk made her jerk. She glanced at Mac, shaking her head but putting the car into gear and leaving the scene.

Traffic had cleared a bit and she pulled the Avalanche into the parking garage only 20 minutes later, Mac right behind her. He brought his truck to a stop next to hers and watching him climb out, a smile appeared on her lips.

"You followed me," she grinned, retrieving evidence and kit from the car.

"You're observant." He, too, got his stuff out of the trunk and she eyed him over.

"Maybe I should call the police," she mused nonchalantly as they walked to the elevator side by side.

"Maybe," he agreed lightly, "I might be dangerous."

With mock skeptics she let her eyes wander up and down his body, a look of protest appearing on his face. She responded to that with a mischievous smirk and shifted slightly to push the button of the elevator, suddenly overcome with the sense of a déjà-vu. They had stood in front of an elevator together recently, waiting, her hand pushing the button, then hers, then his…

Unsure whether it had been a memory, a dream or just a déjà-vu, she glanced at Mac, the sound of the doors opening pulling her mind off it though and she followed him inside. Their arms touching, she leaned next to him against the back wall and a few people joined them on their way up to their floor where they took care of the evidence then stored their kits in their respective offices. Checking her mail, Stella scanned the files on her desk before heading back down the corridor. Mac was standing at his desk, doing the same she had just done and she slowed her steps until he caught her gaze. He nodded barely perceptibly in response to her unvoiced request and she continued to the locker rooms. A young lab tech left as she entered and she had just gotten the tape and gauze out of her locker when the door opened.

"… again, Flack," she heard Danny's voice. "What makes you think we screwed up?" At that, her forehead automatically pulled into a frown and she glanced at the door, hoping that Mac would take his time. "I called her yesterday," Danny went on and she instantly knew who and what he was talking about. "Apologized. Told her I would take over Mac's shift."

Silence followed as he listened, obviously pacing up and down the next row. "No," he said. "But…" He was apparently cut off. "Look, whatever happened between them, I don't think it's something they can't handle."

Her frown changed into confusion.

"Maybe it was something else," Danny suggested. "You said yourself, she mentioned a bad morning, but that doesn't mean they've had an argument. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with Mac."

Recalling her earlier conversation with Flack guilt arose inside of her as she realized that her impressions had been right; it had worried him and she considered making herself known, asking Danny for the phone. But as she subconsciously rubbed her side, a grin began to spread over her face and the guilt turned into a guilty pleasure. It was only a matter of time until Flack would find out that Danny was right; that her bad morning didn't have anything to do with Mac yet until then he could suffer a little. They both could.

"No, Lindsay doesn't know," Danny's words made her thoughts shift to the present again. "No, I can't!" His voice rose a little. "I'm not going to spy on either of them especially not if they're in _that_ kind of mood and you've got nothing more than a hunch to go on." The soft noise of metal was heard as Danny had obviously leaned against a locker. "Yes, I need proof. At least reasonable grounds." The silence that followed was only brief. "No, it's not good enough, forget it Flack!" Once more a metallic sound echoed through the room and the footsteps signaled her that Danny had taken his pacing back up. "No, we don't, but if you want to play spy, do it yourself!" The period of quiet was again a short one. "I know we're in this together and if it's screwed up, I'll stand up for it; apologize again but…" He broke off and an instant later the door clicked shut, footsteps approaching Stella.

"I gotta go," Danny announced the moment Mac appeared in front of Stella. She put her finger to her lips and he nodded, leaning in to her to let her know that he'd been held up by a phone call.

"What was that all about?" Mac inquired once Danny had left, following Stella to an undisturbed corner in the room.

"Flack is worried we had a fight." She couldn't prevent the smirk from spreading over her face that Mac responded to with a puzzled frown.

"How did he get that idea?" he asked as she turned sideways, pushing her pants over her hips and lifting her shirt.

"He jumped to conclusions." Her smirk remained in place and she threw a look over her shoulder, catching the still bewildered glance Mac gave her.

He pulled off two long pieces of the tape that he lightly stuck against the locker next to them then as she recapped her earlier conversation with Flack, he tended to her with a gentleness that almost left her dizzy.

"I guess that happens when you stick your nose in other people's business," he muttered and slightly surprised, she twisted her head, regarding him with raised brows.

"It does have its advantage though," she pointed out, feeling his palm rest on her back; briefly but in a clear gesture of affection then it was gone.

She turned around fully, their eyes meeting yet Mac's gaze dropped watching her readjust pants and shirt prior to reconnecting with hers.

"Like what?" The spark flashed up in his eyes as temporarily as his touch had been and she replied with a sly smile. He returned it and their eyes held on, playing with one another until she leaned in, brushing her lips to his. The kiss was brief yet followed by a second one that he initiated, warmth filling out their eyes as they looked at each other again.

Wordlessly, he handed her the tape back, his fingers curling around hers unnecessarily before they slipped from her hand. She answered his gesture with another smile and after they had exchanged one more glance he turned around, heading for the door. Only reluctantly she forced herself away from the world she had begun to sink in and went back to her locker, storing the tape. With a detour to the ladies' room she left the locker room minutes later and was on her way to one of the evidence labs but stopped at Mac's office. Danny was leaving through the back door, a stack of files under his arm and curious, she stepped inside.

"Did you shoo away your paperwork?" She dropped into the chair opposite Mac.

"Danny insisted I handed over everything he could take care of," he explained, furrowing his forehead.

"Those two really have a bad conscience." Their eyes met and he nodded, a grin spreading over her face. "Good." Satisfied she rose, noticing him shaking his head in amusement.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Sure," she admitted. "Revenge is sweet." She offered him another grin and he studied her, a hint of mischief becoming visible in the far of his eyes.

"And just how long do you plan on keeping your revenge up?"

"I didn't plan anything," she crossed her arms in front of her chest then shrugged. "But for as long as it takes until the truth comes out." At her last words her voice filled with warmth and he gave her a quick smile. She returned that, aware that he was just as comfortable with that thought as she was.

"I still think you should let them pay for the tattoos," she remarked yet all he did was bestow her with the same disagreeing look he had yesterday upon hearing her suggestion.

"And tell them it's for – what?" They hadn't needed any words to determine that no one would learn about the tattoos - especially not how they had come about - and even less so not Danny and Flack. Thus the question, too, was a repetition of the one he had already used as a counter point to her proposition the previous day .

"They don't need to know." The answer was identical as well, so were the sly expression her features were showing and the disapproving and dismissive glance he responded with. "Well, they don't." She shrugged, turning around and heading for the door, slipping out of his office. Her steps were light and before she vanished from his sight, she let her eyes meet his again. His gaze was full of the same love as hers and they smiled at each other; a smile only they understood the whole meaning of, a smile that laid open that new world of theirs so clearly, a universe waiting just for them and ready to be explored for the rest of their lives.


End file.
